I have moved around since the age of 5 when I first left Ecuador. My mother moved my sisters Andrea and Bianca, and myself to the United States. Leaving behind my oldest sister Stefania who had a 2 year old son Esteban, and a new born daughter Krista. This was the hardest move for everyone involved, yet no one realized the domino effect it created and how it would affect everyone’s future.
My mother fled Ecuador from a broken heart. She could not stand the idea of my father having left her while she was pregnant with me for another women. Granted the story of my mother and father is not the usual parent fairy tale a kid would expect to hear from two grown adults. My parents met when they were in high school. My mom went to an all girls school, and my dad went to an all boys school. Lucky for my dad he had 7 sisters so he never had a problem meeting the ladies, and lucky for my mom my dad’s sisters went to the same school, even had some of the same classes. One of my lovely aunts decided to play matchmaker, and set my parents on a date and just like any other horny teenagers they hit it off. 9 months later Stefania was born. In a lot of strict Catholic Hispanic countries it is only right to follow the path of marriage, because having sex before marriage is a sin and having a child and not be married is frowned upon so my parents followed directions. My dad dropped out of school and started to work, my mother filled
the role of being a new house wife still dwelling on her own dreams. How she must give them up to be a mother (maybe that’s why it’s hard for her to love Stefania without feeling remorse). Two years later my parents had Andrea, by the age of 17 and 19 my mom and dad had two kids, a marriage, jobs, and a life full of issues that they could barely stand the sight of each other. My mother had a lot of personal struggles being abandoned by her own mother at the age of 3, growing up poor between house and house, and a father who denied his own daughters if they were a disgrace to the public eye. My mother was a lost poor little girl having kids not knowing how to resolve her own conflicts. My parents got divorced and within a couple of years they both got remarried. My mother got married to an Italian man named Gianfranco and had my third sister Bianca. The only good thing that came out of this relationship was Bianca. Gianfranco was a monster, abusive and disrespectful to my mother in front of my sisters. It was one of the darkest relationships my mother had lasting 12 years. I feel she was in the relationship thinking she deserved a man like that in her life to mistreat her, because of losing my father. My father remarried as well, a woman named Anna-Maria. As I get older I realize she is a perfect fit for my dad, the typical trophy wife. The one who will wipe his ass if he ever needed a woman to do that. Anna-Maria never was able to have kids and it made her nuts I think because of that, and jealous of my mother for having the man she loves only offspring. For many insecurities she had a lot of problems with my father that caused them to separate for a little, at the same time my mother was filling out her divorce papers.
You can say after an adventures night of drinks and making the wrong phone call to each other my parents decided to hook up late one night and accidentally got pregnant. I guess while my mother was pregnant she thought this was the glue to fix each other wounds, but my dad didn’t share the same feeling. Instead of staying with my mother, he went back to Anna-Maria and left my mother pregnant with me. She was devastated at 34 years old, my mother was a single mother of 4 with a successful job at a bank that later went out of business. We moved to Miami where we lived under my stepfather’s roof. This was the fullest most unstable and uncomfortable house I ever had to live in. It had my step grandpa, my grandma, and 5 terrible cousins that bullied my living space, never making it feel like home.
My mother, my sisters Andrea and Bianca plus myself shared one room with one bed.
In addition my mother’s new boyfriend Hoover. One of my earliest memories of Hoover is being a six year old kid sleeping in my mom’s bed while Hoover and her were on the floor fucking. I know my mom thought that I was sleeping, but the sound pierced through my dreams. I realized that’s the reason my art is sexual. Sex was a part of my childhood. Sex was not hidden from me, it was performed in front of me all the time through my mother’s experience. My life is a collage, puzzling everything together.
I’m building a home
I’m building a memory
I painted bricks
I placed them together
I remember these bricks
the bricks followed me
when I close my eyes
I see brick walls
that made a home
with life, plants, color
the bricks were our shelter
yet you fell from the top floor
we fell apart
the brick home was not strong enough
to hold us together
the beauty could not hide our pain
we left the brick home
but as time goes by
I see the brick walls in our lives and the beauty hiding our pain
I rebuild the brick wall daddy
where these bricks could actually hold us
I wanna decorate it with beauty
so you don’t see my pain daddy
I’m building a brick wall to hold my sanity